When All Is Lost
by Creecree
Summary: After the War, Harry loses several things.
1. Running

**NOTICES** The Harry Potter empire belongs to JK Rowling. This is merely a work of imaginative fiction based on the series. This contains M/M, D/H. Read at own discretion.

**When All Is Lost**

CHAPTER ONE

'Harry, stop! Harry!'

Harry ignored Neville as he ran. His right arm held on tightly around his mid section in a desperate attempt at stemming the blood that leaked endlessly from the deep cut, as his left arm stretched out in front of him, like he wanted to reach across the whole distance of the corridor so that he could get to Ron and Hermione as soon as possible. Harry breathed in painful, staccato shots of air, his head pounding with fear, _please please please-_

'Harry!'

Harry didn't respond, preferring to direct what's left in his energy reserve to grasp the door handle and push the heavy swinging doors of the hospital wing.

'Ron!'

'Potter, you shouldn't- '

'Shut up Malfoy, just tell me how he is!'

'Potter, I couldn't do anything,'

'Of course you can't you stupid fucker, get Madame Pomphrey,'

'Potter, stop,'

Malfoy didn't even sound angry at the insult. At the moment, he sounded just as Harry felt, tired and strangely sad. It didn't feel like Voldemort was gone. It didn't feel like Harry had just saved the world. The Saviour, filthy, bloody, aching in places he didn't even remember having, was crouched beside Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, amateur Healer, who could possibly be the only one with the closest state of mind as Harry's. Lost. Confused. So very alone, and scared than before.

'Potter, he's gone,'

'No,'

'Potter, he- both of them. We couldn't save them,'

'No, they're supposed to be here, with me, they were supposed to- '

'Potter they're _gone_,'

'They can't be. No no- '

'Potter, please,'

Harry froze in his current position, his blood dripping steadily onto the unusually muddy, dirty linoleum of the wing, his mouth still murmuring a string of strangled no's. His mind barely registered the soft voice calling his name so close to his ear, Malfoy's scent of sweat and blood replenishing potions that surrounded his dull senses. Idly, he noticed that Malfoy's hand had circled his left wrist, holding him, his thumb resting just there where Harry's began, cold and sticky. Harry was beginning to sink, his knees weak and uncoordinated.

'Come on, you need- '

'I need Ron. And Hermione. I need Ron and Hermione, now,'

The reality of their deaths, was wrapping itself slowly, but surely around Harry's brain, rendering him increasingly dizzy and sick- _on my god, what did I do, what did I do_- with the replays of what happened. The way Ron and Hermione just seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind him right after he avada-ed Voldemort into ash and blackness, to duel with a crazed, furious Bellatrix Lestrange who was bent on _I will avenge my master, my master, my master_- how they yelled at him to run, because he could no longer duel, he could barely _stand_ anymore. The two of them stayed and fought, Ron grinning manically, Hermione flushed and eyes shining- they were happy, thinking that Voldemort was gone, _gone_, while Harry dragged himself away and passed out behind a thicket of trees, just as he saw Neville running towards him.

It wasn't possible. They couldn't have died saving him.

'They're just sleeping,'

'Potter, stop. They are not- '

'They saved me. They fought, they're just tired,' Harry said softly as he trailed his right palm along Hermione's. _Yes, they're just sleeping_, his head worked desperately, forcing his heart to believe it, forcing himself to just deny everything. If they were really-

'Draco, I thought we were not going to- ' Harry acknowledged Mrs Weasley's hushed voice clogged with tears behind him, but he refused to turn.

'I couldn't stop him. He just came running in- '

'Mrs Weasley, Malfoy says- '

'Harry dear, I am so sorry,'

'Ron isn't dead! And neither is Hermione,'

'Oh Harry,' Mrs Weasley managed to choke out, the last syllable almost inaudible, disappearing behind her grief. Her hand clenched around Ron's that was lying sedately at the edge of the bed. Harry looked away, refusing to see Ron's fingers not clench back.

'They're just asleep. We'll wake them later,'

'Potter, stop, please,'

Harry ignored him, wrapping his arms round his mid section again, making to walk out of the wing.

'Potter for fuck's sake just _stop_,'

Harry's brain, working mechanically, forced his legs to slow, and he stood still by the doorway, his back to Malfoy. He wanted to say _you can't tell me what to do Malfoy!_ or a friendlier, but still dismissive _bloody make me then_ but his mind was unhelpfully blank, so he concentrated on the pad of Malfoy's shoes as he walked towards him. A moment later, he felt the same cold fingers that just so recently detached themselves from his wrist, weave into his fingers that were grasped in the doorway for support.

'Come,'

Harry let himself be led back to Ron. And Hermione. To a sobbing Mrs Weasley who was now joined by a stoic Ginny who managed to look helpless and determined at the same time. He couldn't see his own face, but he imagined it to be impassive. After the shock, the denial, he felt decidedly empty. _Soulless_. Unsettled, he squeezed Malfoy's fingers, thankful that they squeezed back even when Malfoy seemed otherwise undisturbed. He just held on to Harry's hand, leading him to the beds.

'Look,'

His hand was let go, and his arm fell heavily to his side as he watched Malfoy move away to stand between the beds, beside Mrs Weasley. Gently, he peeled Mrs Weasley's hand off Ron's, who just took a step away from the bed, gathering her robes around her and turning to hug Ginny who stood there, her arms by her side, eyes staring at the window above Ron's bed. Harry limped closer, fearing what was to come as he saw Malfoy clutch the tops of the blankets that covered Ron and Hermione's legs.

'Malfoy, what are you- '

'They're gone Potter,'

Malfoy whispered, loud in the quiet corner of the wing. With something akin to nausea, and fear, absolute gripping _fear_, he stood and watched Malfoy's hands drag the blanket to their chests-

'What the fuck are you doing?!'

Malfoy ignored him, his eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of him, Mrs Weasley and Ginny now crying so quietly you'd be hard pressed to catch even a hitch in their breaths.

'Malfoy- '

Harry reached blindly through his tears to grasp the bed, not knowing why he did, just feeling like he should do something, react, as the blanket passed their lips, their noses, and eventually it rested, moulding onto the shapes of their bodies and facial features, as Malfoy tucked the edges of the blanket behind their heads.

'There,'

Harry could hear his own breathing, the harsh, rattling sound of desperate inhalations and exhalations. He felt the tears falling and falling, he was crying, crying with Mrs Weasley, Ginny, because they just lost Ron. They had lost Ron, and Hermione. He tried to rearrange his thoughts, torn between wanting to yank back the blankets and shake Ron until he opened his stupid eyes, to poke Hermione's shoulder until she turned to him to say _Harry, stop that_, and wanting to sink further into Malfoy's arms that had appeared around him so suddenly he hadn't noticed.

'They're gone,'

Just like Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred- the others.

'Yes Harry. They are,'

Harry didn't know what to do. He just held on tighter to Malfoy's arms, grasping onto the tethers of comfort his ex-enemy could provide.

_Six months later:_

'Excuse me, that seat is- '

'Most definitely taken. By me,'

Harry's eyes widened as he recognised the face of the person who was currently rearranging his coat around him, looking uncomfortable, but strangely accomplished.

'Draco?!'

'One and only,'

'What the hell,'

'What the hell what?'

'What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you doing talking to me? What- '

'Okay stop, I got the incredulity from _'Draco?!'_. No need to explain your girlish exclamations,'

Impulsively, Harry picked a handful of fries from his tray and threw it at the man sitting opposite him. Draco stared blandly as a few hit his forehead. Then, rolling his eyes, he picked the lone one that had landed on his head, and ate it. Harry just continued glaring at him, one of his hands busy groping around for his wand, the other gripping the edge of the tray tighter then necessary.

'Your glamour nose is awful. And red hair doesn't suit you,' Draco paused, tilting his head, and added in an afterthought ,'Oh-ho, was _that_ why you left the Weaslette?'

'Godammit!'

'What is it now Harry?'

'Can't- find- my wand,'

'Nicked it,' Draco piped smugly, patting the pocket of his coat.

'Draco Malfoy, I so want to kill you right now,'

Harry found it remarkably unfair to be confronted with such a situation. It was confusingly surreal, he had been enjoying 2 large fries with extra salt, and a regular Coke at the McDonald's joint nearest to his Muggle apartment, and then of all things, Draco Malfoy had ambled in, all shiny blond hair and expensive coat, stealing his wand(that he had intended to use as a threat rather than a weapon, to be honest), and invading his personal space.

Then again, nothing has ever been fair in the life of Harry Potter, has it?

'You can't, even if you had your wand,'

'Why?' Harry's pulse skipped a beat as he replied, his voice deceptively even, as he wondered painfully if Draco_ knew_.

'We're in McDonalds,' as though it explained everything,'...amongst deep fried cut out potatoes and pimply adolescents out on cheap dates,'

_He didn't._

'Leave, then,'

'No can do. I'm here on a mission Harry,'

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Inside however, he was starting to quiver.

'I don't care,'

'Oh you would. Do you want to know what my mission is Harry?'

_Why_, Harry thought balefully, _does everything that comes out of Draco Malfoy's mouth sugar coated with sex?_ He wanted to point out that Draco's voice had went unnecessarily husky for such a conversation. This wasn't like the other, previous meetings, a long time ago. He shook his head to get rid of the images of that particular night- that night that would probably never happen again. _Draco, Draco, Draco-_

He was suddenly very tired.

'You're going to bind me, silence me, and then drag me back Draco?'

He waited, cocking his head a little as though he expected a band of Aurors to jump out from Draco's coat(it was a huge, hanging thing) with their wands brandished. When that didn't happen, he sighed, _it __would've been so much simpler._

'Just tell me what's going on Draco, then go,'

'That's no fun,'

'I don't play games anymore Draco,'

'I don't suppose you do,' Draco paused thoughtfully, his eyes trained on his hands that were clasped in front of him on the table ,'What with the running around and hiding,'

Harry blinked, his heart thudding.

'Excuse me?'

Draco looked up, his eyes gleaming, mocking, playing.

'Yes?'

'You think, you think this is all a game?'

Infuriatingly, one of Draco's eyebrow's shot up at that, that clearly said _well, of course_.

'You think, that I left wizarding London, for fun? That I left because I thought it would be exciting, _interesting_, like some exotic holiday? That I purposely wanted to be chased, _hunted_ about by the press and Aurors from Missing Persons?' Harry whispered savagely across the table, his hands shaking, his head hurting with memories and fear. _Fear_. He had went through every possible life threatening occurrence a 19 year old could possibly go through, and more, but this fear always felt worse than usual, more foreign, harder to resolve. This couldn't be eradicated with a flick of his wand. This couldn't just be _removed_.

Draco at that moment, looked utterly shattered and confused, all trace of cockiness gone from his face.

'Well then why? Why did you leave?'

Harry refused to meet the relentlessly darting silver eyes, choosing instead to collect his bag from his floor, making to leave.

'Harry!'

Ignored, Draco was left to watch Harry walk briskly through the lunch time crowd and out of the fast food outlet, making it impossible for Draco not to attract a scene should he demand Harry to stop and answer him. He shut his eyes tiredly, leaning onto the back rest of the plastic chair and exhaled. His plan had failed spectacularly. _Harry, what is it are you not telling me, why are you running, what-_ so many questions. Folding his arms around him, he felt a jab to his rib and reached into his inside pocket. _His wand_, Draco thought frantically. He shot up immediately, rushing out to resume tracing Harry's steps, his head filled with nasty images of Harry attacked by rogue vengeful Death Eaters, or violent bounty hunters. Absently, he wondered how Harry could be so careless with the wand, not remembering to acquire it back from him.

Maybe, Harry didn't need his wand anymore.


	2. Searching

**NOTICES** The Harry Potter empire belongs to JK Rowling. This is merely a work of imaginative fiction based on the series. This contains M/M, D/H. Read at own discretion.

**When All Is Lost**

CHAPTER TWO

Harry stumbled into his apartment exhaustedly, his fingers trembling with the locks on the door, his shoes shuffling unsteadily on the worn maroon carpet. _What the hell mate, maroon?!_- No, he couldn't think of Ron now, he couldn't. He tuned his mind to focus on other things, to keep himself calm, to keep from the magic that seem to seep from the very tips of his fingers so fluidly he felt like liquid himself. So _weak_ and uncontrollable. His glamour was completely gone now, the work of an intense 12 hour period of absolute meditation for the puny result of a single grade 2 directive charm. He had begun to feel the glamour prickling uncomfortably on his skin since he exited McDonalds, and in the midst of trying to lose Draco and a couple of Rita Skeeter's renegade photographers, his energies had depleted misreably.

And he really didn't want to risk magic in a public, Muggle place.

'Oh yes Harry. Wouldn't want to risk the Muggles seeing,' he wondered out loud to the bare apartment, shrugging off his jacket and kicking his shoes off his feet.

'Wouldn't want them to know what a freak you are,' he rambled on, feeling unusually annoyed, affected, and cursing Draco for being the cause of it.

'Wouldn't want them to see you all crazy. And- and angry, and all,' he muttered, as he took the sock off his right foot.

'Wouldn't want them to- '

A mug that had been sitting forlornly at the kitchen counter, amid scatterings of other glass and plastic debris, exploded then, sending smithereens of brown porcelain all over the kitchen. Specks of the leftover tea from the mug flew to the beige walls, dripping down in thin, murky streams. Harry watched from the spot where he was standing at the hallway, the sock in his hand, eyes wide open, stunned.

'Record time Harry,' he mused ,'This time you didn't even get to get your socks into the hamper before you destroyed something,'

Going on to removing the next sock, and dropping them there, right beside his shoes just to be contrary, he walked towards the kitchen counter, and stared at the mess around him.

'Record time Harry,' he said again, his shaky fingers rifling through the glass pieces on the counter, as he studied the meaningless mess stoicly, his face impassive. Inside though, his mind curdled in panic and fear. _Its just another bit of crazy magic_, he thought desperately, _just another bit._ He tried not to acknowledge the fact that they were becoming more frequent, and rapidly more explosive, and destructive. Even his wand couldn't help to channel and direct his magic better. Nothing and nobody could-

Blinking away the sudden burn of tears in his eyes, he sunk to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. _Who am I kidding._ His right foot scraped the sharp edge of a plate that he had sent flying off the rack this morning, and he winced, though recognising the pain of a cut so very well by now. He watched a minute amount of blood bead at the corner of the straight, short cut on the tip of his toe, and a moment later, drip onto the gray tile of the kitchen. _So human._

So alone.

And not for the first time since Harry left the wizarding world, he buried his face in his hands, and cried.

:::

Dennis Creevey sat in the chair opposite Draco Malfoy, wearing a look that could only be described as hopeful.

'You saw _Harry_, as in Harry?! Harry Potter?!'

'No, the other Harry on the high priority Missing Persons list,'

'Oh,'

Draco stared as Creevey's face sunk into the deepest dredges of misery, _honestly_.

'There is no other Harry on the sodding list,'

'But you said- '

'I was mocking you,'

'Right,'

'You do know what that means right?'

'That you're a very mean person?'

'That aside, it means that _yes_, I did see Harry!'

'You saw- wow,'

Draco leaned back into his chair, watching Creevey's face regain that characteristic bright, bemused expression. It made Draco want to punch him, chide him for being the happy little fanboy he was, all caring and compassionate and _hopeful_. The hope was the worst part of all, because it brought along obligations and responsibilities for Draco.

'So when are you bringing him back here?'

_Right on cue._

'Dunno Creevey. And I don't have to report to the likes of you. Get back to your letters and memos- and don't get any ideas about selling this to the press. He- he doesn't have his wand right now,'

'So?'

'So, if all the bad bad people out there get wind that he's been sighted, they'll get extra hardworking and extra bad. And when they get extra bad, Harry will be in extra danger. Especially wandless,'

Creevey just smiled in that peculiar way of his.

'Oh,'

'Yes, oh,'

'Well- '

'And he doesn't want to come back,' Draco wondered a little why he felt like a bloody tell-all. Maybe the sleep deprivation was really getting to him.

'Sorry?'

'It just seemed like- like he doesn't want to come back,'

'What?!'

Draco let his head fall onto the backrest, and studied the ceiling, listening to the heavy silence of surprise. He faintly registered the soft thump as Creevey leaned forward to rest his head heavily on the stack of intra department letters he was supposed to be distributing, and the sigh that followed.

'But- but why?'

'Dunno,'

Silver eyes continued to study the dark blue ceiling, unseeing. _Why indeed._

'Well, shit,' Creevey replied, sighing again.

Draco's lips twisted into an odd smile at that, slanted and uncomfortable.

'You can laugh you know,' Creevey whispered conspiratorially, seeing his lips twitch ,'I won't tell anyone,'

And it took all of Draco to not tell Creevey that sometimes, he feels like he has forgotten how to.

_A few days later:_

Harry felt the familiar threads pull him in, almost as soon as he rested his head on his pillow.

'Draco I can't see you!' - 'I'm right here Harry,' - 'Draco- oh!' - A sight catches his attention, a placid, golden moon hanging above the lake at Hogwarts. Harry stops for a moment, but he remembers that he wasn't at Hogwarts. He was with Draco. - 'Draco?' - 'I'm right here Harry,' - 'Wha- Draco where are you?' - 'Right _here_,'

Harry jolted awake at that point, not knowing exactly what woke him up, but getting the sense that he had felt that way before, a kind of loss that was soothed a notch by the fact that someone was looking for him. Someone was right behind him, trying to reach him, save him maybe. _Save me,_ he thought bleakly, _like Ron, like Hermione_.

Regretting the thought detour, he rolled out of his bed, and got his bag, the ratty messenger that he had used back in Hogwarts, that held his photo album and few odd parchments and quills. He opened the album, skipping pass the photos of Ron and Hermione quickly, _I'm sorry but I can't deal with you right now_, and reached the very last photograph, the one of him and Draco.

_'Harry I'm filthy!'_

_'That generally happens after dueling practice,'_

_'Shut up,'_

_'Draco for fuck's sake you look fine,'_

_'Excuse me?! My hair is all, eurgh!'_

_'You look fine. In fact, why don't we take a picture?'_

_'A picture?! Now?! No- '_

And Harry remembered vividly wrestling Draco onto the ground to hold him still, then hurriedly grab the blurry shot with the conjured camera. The camera that he had conjured with- Harry started. His wand. His wand. Where was his-

_Draco._

:::

'Kingsley,'

'Malfoy,'

'I would like to request a meeting,'

'Oh? For?'

'All Aurors on the Green case,'

'I assume you have a lead of some sort?'

'Of course,'

The lift dinged at reaching the next floor, as other Ministry employees on it looked on the pair apprehensively, trying to catch a gist of the cryptic conversation. Draco rolled his eyes as he made to walk out of the lift, having reached his destination.

'Oh and Malfoy? Don't forget the magic book,'

'Oh yes. From the magic place,' and winking exaggeratedly at the man, sweeping out of the lift in a flourish. Happy or not, the Auror had to keep the tradition of throwing off the rest of the Ministry with ridiculous proclamations, most of which, untrue.

This magic book however, _did_ exist. It was the log of observations that Draco and his team had managed to compile having spent the past three days cramped into the apartment unit above Harry's. Not wanting to alert Harry, they had refrained from any magic whatsoever, resulting in often awkward, almost revealing reactions.

'What the fuck is that?!'

'The ringing! What the!'

'Stop it, stop it-'

'No magic! No fucking magic, Harry-'

'Sod Harry!'

They had shrunk into a corner, all five of them, being the grown men that they were and stared at the small thing that was glowing ominously with green luminous numbers. Just as Terry, the one with a Muggle born girlfriend, was about to exclaim in abject excitement at having finally remembered what the thing was(_an alarm clock!_), a pissed off neighbour had come demanding entrance, and then proceeded to plunge the damned contraption into Draco's cup of tea. It silenced immediately.

'Well thank-'

'Fuck you,' was all he got in response, as the man stomped away, slamming their door behind him.

'All for Harry,' Draco muttered to himself, rewarding himself with a wry smile at the memory. His team were made up of good lads, most of them. They were from the quieter schools of Redwell and Westenra, all English but small, so small that Draco hadn't even heard of them before. But they however, _they've_ heard of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, the Last Battle of the War... And they looked up to Draco for his scars from the War, and he became the team leader though he was the youngest at 19. _Sod the War_, he thought savagely, his mood souring rapidly, and wondering why he kept capitalising the War if he was trying to make it seem like it didn't matter to him anymore.

He wondered about the sense of incompleteness and discontent that sat in the pit of his being, unfurling and spreading. He wondered about Harry, and the things they found out about him. He wondered about the unfairness of it all, Weasley, Granger, _his mother-_

The War- it had ruined them all.

:::

'Alright children get seated,'

'Fuck you Malfoy!'

'Seriously children, _do_ get seated,' came Kingsley's deep voice a few seconds later, as he walked into the conference hall unnoticed. It sent the 10 odd Aurors scrambling for their seats, as Draco moved to stand at the head of the table, beside Kingsley, smirking slightly.

'This is the final stage lads. We found him. We find out why he's been doing what he's doing, and we get him away from whatever he's been doing, and bring him home,'

'Uh. In other words, we know what's wrong with Harry,' Draco explained, clutching the report from the analysis team that he himself hadn't read. He remembered the odd explosions, the frequent crashes, and sometimes the loud colourful slurring that revealed more that they could have hoped for. Draco had just sat still on the floor, listening intently to every word, wanting so much to run downstairs and comfort him, comfort Harry. For the moment, he contented himself with staring at the familiar wand that sat sedately on the conference table. His own sat in his pocket, the one used by Harry so briefly many didn't even realise... And between Kingsley's strategy planning and his frayed nerves, Draco tried to hold on to every bit of connection and memory of Harry he could find.

_Harry was coming home._

He disregarded the funny issues, the fact that Harry might object(violently) to being ambushed and dragged back to the Ministry flew by his head, and he barely noticed Kingsley tugging the report from his fist to read it aloud until Terry poked his cheek with the end of a quill. The sharp one.

'Bastard,' he cursed, rubbing the cheek, and relinquishing the report from Kingsley, wanting to read it himself.

'Get to the good parts quick,'

'Shut up,' he shot back, nervous, skimming the report quickly.

'Malfoy?'

'Oh fuck,'

'Malfoy?!'

'Oh God,'

He registered the rush of bodies around him, all crowded to catch a glimpse of the report, and caught the expressions of horror slide onto their faces one by one.

'Loss of magical control? What the hell is that?'

'Energy depletion...high risk, and its been- its been going on for the past- oh shit,'

'Malfoy, you- we gotta get to him fast!'

'Malfoy, get yourself together man!'

'I can't- '

'Fuck Malfoy come on!'

'Hurry! Someone get Mungo's! Get Ern to Floo Mungo's and arrange for transportation to the location!'

'Yeah yeah- '

'Malfoy! Come on before- '

'Malfoy! Fuck come on!'

'Mal- _Draco_,' came an exhausted, soft voice, Terry's, near his ear a few seconds later amid the shouting and instructions.

'We have to go now Draco. We have to go get Harry before he dies,'


End file.
